


in the thick of it

by delfinos



Category: Fence (Comics)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-12 20:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19236847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delfinos/pseuds/delfinos
Summary: “I keep waiting for his Katayama obsession to fizzle out but it’s stronger than ever,” Eugene says, noticing even through his haze the way the other boy’s eyes drop. “Gonna be hearing about it all year, so buckle up.”Nicholas is playing with the hem of his untucked shirt. "Do you even think he's into guys?"“Bobby?” Eugene smirks, and Nick glances back up just to give him a look.“Seiji.”Eugene leans back in the creaky desk chair so far it makes a distinctive cracking noise. "Do I think Seiji Katayama is gay?"Nicholas performs the little one-shouldered shrug he does when trying to act casual.Or, Eugene's observational skills are just as surefooted and valuable off the salle d'armes than they are on it.





	1. scintilla

**Author's Note:**

> me: i don’t write fanfiction anymore  
> *reads fence*  
> also me: ok maybe ill write some One More Time™

“So, yeah, that’s why the cafeteria doesn’t serve Red Bull anymore,” Eugene concludes, as the pair stops in front of his room and he starts rummaging in his pockets for the little key. “Blame it on Tanner, like usual.”

Nicholas shakes his half-empty bottle of Gatorade leftover from dinner and leans against the wall of the corridor. “That’s alright, I still got this stuff.”

“Fuck,” Eugene mutters, sliding his backpack off his shoulder and digging through it. He pulls out the wrinkled hoodie he had shoved in there that morning, flinging it at Nick to hold as his fingers brush against the bottom of the bag.

“I’m sure the ladies in the front office are going to be thrilled to hear you lost your key again.”

Eugene doesn’t have to look up to see the shit-eating grin on his teammate’s face. He brushes against a familiar shape during his search through an inner pocket probably meant best for pencils. Eugene makes a victorious trumpeting noise through his teeth, after brandishing the key to Nicholas, and both unlocks and flings open the door in a swift, grand motion.

“Now hurry up and get in before Aiden emerges from a cloud of red smoke and thinks we’re sucking face,” he says, making a big show of shoving the other boy into his room, which earns his hoodie being lobbed at his head. When he pulls the fabric off, he sees that Nick has already left him alone out in the hallway and is making a move to close the door on him. Eugene shoves himself through the entryway, nearly knocking over a snickering Nicholas with his momentum. The door slams shut, and Eugene manages to snatch his backpack away before it could get caught.

“Now I’m starting to see why Katayama had to put up that stupid curtain,” Eugene throws his things on his unmade bed before lacing his fingers behind his head in a long stretch. “You’re an actual menace.”

Nick’s fingers are busy loosening the knot of his necktie, usually the first article of their uniform he wrecks after classes or out of sight from school faculty. During his first few weeks, his teammate racked up so many dress code citations that Coach Williams had him doing suicides before and after every practice.

Ignoring him, Nicholas looks around the empty room. “Where’s Jay?”

“Library,” Eugene replies, pulling off his blazer and unclasping the first few buttons of his collar. “Throwing himself into schoolwork lately. It’s amazing what an Aiden detox will do to a guy.”

Nick belly flops onto the end of his bed, lazily rolling over to look at him. “You make it sound like Aiden is some sort of poison.”

“Aren’t some snakes venomous?”

Nicholas rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Gene.”

“I kid, I kid,” Eugene relents, instead digging around in a desk drawer. He has been trying, but there is only so much he can tell Nicholas to prepare him for when he eventually sees Aiden in action, causing drama and breaking hearts in the messiest of ways. He didn’t believe it when he was a baby freshman, either, he supposes.

Finding what he was digging around for, he holds up his favorite lighter, the one emblazoned with the Filipino flag. “Wanna smoke?”

Nick observes him from his spot comfortably lounging across the mattress, half-heartedly undoing his shoelaces. After a few moments, he manages to kick them off and lets them clatter to the floor. “You still have some?”

“No thanks to our captain,” Eugene grumbles, pulling out a small sheet of rolling paper he keeps hidden under a stack of index cards. “I’ve never seen someone so quick to flush good weed down the toilet. Kind of an asshole move.”

“He’s just looking out for you before Coach catches you first.”

Eugene rolls his eyes from his position hunched over his desk. “Yeah, sure.”

With his head pillowed on folded arms, Nicholas watches as he neatly distributes the crushed cannabis from a little plastic baggy onto the paper, shaping the joint with his fingers and rolling it back and forth to pack it down. A few minutes later, Eugene is thumbing the spark wheel of the lighter, bringing the paper close. The flame catches quickly on the tip, glowing red for a few seconds and Eugene holds it up in the air for Nick to see.

“To Harvard,” he declares, the chair’s wheels skidding loudly when he rolls across the floor to give the other boy the honorary first drag. The freshman gives him a lopsided smile that quickly turns into a grimace on the second puff. He coughs, scrunching his nose.

Eugene feels offended. “What?”

“Bad weed,” Nicholas says simply, quickly passing the joint back and sitting up to reach for his Gatorade.

Eugene blinks and brings it to his own lips, scowling when he tastes the signature musty dirt-like flavor of the lowest grade on a shallow inhale. He suddenly hates the entire lacrosse team.

“Looks like Harvard actually did you a favor, huh?” Nicholas laughs, shrugging off his blazer and laying it on the unmade duvet next to him.  

Eugene throws him his best withering look, which is pretty easy at this moment. “Fucking lacrosse players. Do they actually think this shitty stuff is good? Or did I get scammed?”

“Say you’re sorry and maybe Harvard will help you to get your money back.”

“Harvard is about as harmless as a baby moth,” Eugene mumbles, taking another brief drag. It’s the worst, probably will give a headache instead of a high, but he spent money so it's going to get smoked. “It’s Aiden you have to worry about.”

Nick cards a hand through the unruly part of his hair, watching Eugene swivel around in the computer chair. “He keeps asking me and Seiji about who we’re interested in. After dinner, he almost cornered me before I could catch up to you.”

“Yeah,” Eugene scoffs, blowing out smoke through his nose. “Get used to that. He’s persistent. Did I tell you about the time Aiden made a dude drop out of Kings Row yet?”

The other boy’s eyes go wide, and he makes himself more comfortable on Eugene’s bed in a way that reminds him of his younger siblings. “I would have definitely remembered if you had.”

“Okay, this was when uh,” Eugene props his feet up on the desk, moving Jay’s textbooks out of his way with a heel. “I was a baby freshman and Harvard and Aiden were a grade above me. There was an exchange student here from Australia or New Zealand or some shit, and he and Harvard started dating for a little bit. It wasn’t super serious, but it lasted for a few months. Anyway, Aiden discovered that the fucker had a boyfriend or girlfriend, can’t remember, back home in Kangaroo Land. Don’t ask me how he found out, but he did.”

Eugene paused to take another drag, finally beginning to feel his head swim pleasantly.

“So, what do you think Aiden did? Completely exposed him in front of the entire school. Literally called him a cheating rat in the dining hall, it was just as hilarious as you think it might have been. I’m sure it’s uploaded on YouTube somewhere. Then, the Bons took it a step further and went around telling everyone what he did to our poor Harvard, who everyone liked, and suddenly that accent wasn’t so hot. Don’t think in his remaining days did he get laid once. Few weeks later, dude fucked off back to P. Sherman 42 Wallaby Way or whatever. The entire thing lifted Aiden to god-like status, and I was there to witness it. The end.”

Nick was squinting at him. “Jesus Christ, poor Harvard.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Eugene laughs, taking his feet off the desk and propelling himself toward the bed. He feels he has to defend the blonde somewhat in this instance. “You really think Aiden would have done it without his blessing?”

Tilting his head, Nicholas seems to consider for a moment. “They’re good friends, huh?”

“Yeah, _friends_ ,” Eugene snorts, and he isn’t sure if Nick is fucking with him or if one puff of that shitty joint was enough to kill a few brain cells. He’s about to ask when a downcast expression flickers across his face.

“It’s kinda dumb but,” Nicholas shakes his head when Eugene offers him another hit, kicking his chair and sending him gliding over the room’s only window. “You guys have been going to school here for years, like you all know each other already. I feel like an outsider to it all still.”

“Bobby wants to adopt you, that should be enough to tell you that you’re fitting in just fine.”

Nicholas’ eyebrows stay furrowed. “I guess.”

“I keep waiting for his Katayama obsession to fizzle out but it’s stronger than ever,” Eugene says, noticing even through his haze the way the other boy’s eyes drop. “Gonna be hearing about it all year, so buckle up.”

Nicholas is playing with the hem of his untucked shirt. "Do you even think he's into guys?"

“Bobby?” Eugene smirks, and Nick glances back up just to give him a look.

“Seiji.”

Eugene leans back in the creaky desk chair so far it makes a distinctive cracking noise. "Do I think Seiji Katayama is gay?"

Nicholas performs the little one-shouldered shrug he does when trying to act casual.

Eugene takes a long drag and pretends to mull it over for a few moments. “Is it too bold to say that I’d bet your spot on the team?”

Finally grinning again, Nick leans back on his elbows. "Yeah, you seem way too confident about that."

"Don’t you know my gaydar is top notch?" Eugene sucks the last breath out the world’s worst joint before standing to crack open the window. He stops in front of Nicholas and presses his first two fingers to the other boy's forehead.

"Ding, ding, ding." Eugene sings, smoke curling out of his mouth as Nick laughs loudly, falling backward onto the bed under the pressure of his hand.

There's a quick succession of knocks at the door that startles them both and almost sends Eugene into a coughing fit. He contemplates ditching his joint through the cracked window but realizes it’s too late in the night to be school staff, and he won’t feel like retrieving it up off the sidewalk later so people below can't put two and two together.

After crossing the room, he slowly opens the door a few inches, kind of praying it isn’t Harvard, but is instead met with the prodigy of fencing's haughty expression.

"Oh, speaking of," Eugene kicks the door open wider, causing it to whack against the opposite wall, and he hears Nick scramble to sit up on his bed from behind him.

“Labao,” Seiji's acknowledges in his usual greeting, dark eyes following the dying joint Eugene is twirling between his fingers before they flick up to peer closer into the dorm to address his roommate.

"I wanted to see if you were still up for night practice," Seiji says, and Eugene watches the way he takes in Nick's position on the mattress, the loose necktie and the unfastened button-up of Eugene's uniform. He minutely lifts an eyebrow when Eugene grins at him and leans against the wall. “Or are you preoccupied with something else?”

“Shit, no, I forgot,” Nicholas mutters, hastily gathering his backpack from off the floor and slipping into his shoes without bothering to redo the laces. He hoists himself from off the bed and brushes away the hair from his forehead, looking between the two other boys at the threshold.

“Uh,” he secures the strap of his bag haphazardly over a shoulder, fiddling with adjusting it there for a few moments. “Did you want to come with, Gene?”

Seiji’s arms stiffly cross over his chest, face turning a fraction sourer. Kill Bill sirens are going off in his head, and it takes all Eugene’s willpower to fight the smirk threatening to break through when he feigns a yawn and sags heavier against the wall. “Fuck no, man. Gonna go to sleep like a normal person.”

“Suit yourself,” Nick remarks, playfully hip checking him at the doorway. “See you tomorrow at breakfast then.”

“Hash browns!” Eugene breathes, making a move to deposit his used joint in the little opening of Nicholas’ bookbag where it wasn’t zipped closed completely. He winks at Seiji behind his roommate’s back. “I’m waiting with bated breath.”

“It’s almost eleven,” Seiji states with a frown, batting away Eugene’s hand as Nick joins him out in the dorm hallway. “We should go before we're locked out of the building. Again.”

Nicholas, oblivious to both Seiji subtly cataloging his somewhat disheveled appearance and Eugene watching Seiji watch him, bounces a little on his heels.

“Someone’s eager to get destroyed on the salle,” Nicholas singsongs while grinning and backing away toward the stairwell.

“Your laces are undone, idiot.” Seiji rolls his eyes but makes to follow him, throwing another disapproving glance at Eugene in parting. “Watch your step or you’re going to break your neck.”

Eugene swings the door shut as he hears Nick’s voice echo around loudly in the empty corridor. “Are you hinting at wanting to tie them up for me?”

After copying Harvard’s approach and flushing his dead joint down the toilet, Eugene uncovers the stash of junk food he must keep out of sight from Jay before flopping onto his bed. He stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes while slowly downing a family size bag of Cheetos and almost wishes he could turn off his observational skills long enough to enjoy the shitty high but there’s no helping how fast his mind is racing at this point.

“Fuck,” he laughs, digging into his back pocket for his phone. He pulls up the ongoing text thread with Nicholas, full of memes and long strings of emojis, and types out a message that proves to be a little challenging with cheese dust coating his fingers.

_i change my mind, im betting my adidas asymmetrics instead_

_ggaaaayyy!_


	2. unitatis mirabile vinculum

Eugene secures his gloves up and over his sleeves, the sound of Velcro ripping apart getting lost in the thrum of activity as he exits the reeking locker room that smells like a combination of both sweat and Axe body spray and steps out into the gymnasium. Their first match of the season was away at a public school in South Norwalk that lacked a salle of their own, the wood linoleum of the court being transformed into team areas of play with a column of grounded conductive pistes spanning the length. Eugene can’t find it to be annoyed that a few members of a rival school purposefully bump shoulders with him on their way past when he spots his team on the farthest side of the gym, assigned to the last strip and getting ready.

Maneuvering around the groups of people just standing around talking and intent on blocking the way for everyone else, he comes across Harvard first, who looks like he’s trying to flip through a list of team rosters and lace up his shoes at the same time.

“Thanks for ditching me back in the locker room,” Eugene says, coming up to stand next to his captain’s shitty little plastic chair the school apparently supplied for the teams on the sidelines. “Though I can’t really blame you too much. It’s like these guys have never heard of deodorant.”

Harvard smiles a little bit at that, the tension easing off his face momentarily. “Katayama got geared up and stormed out by himself. No one else was dressed and I didn’t want him alone.”

“Is being a tight ass a qualifying condition for a medical marijuana card in Connecticut?” Eugene snorts, noticing too late the way Harvard turns fully to peer at him closely. “I need to get him some. He needs to follow my lead and chill the fuck out.”

The senior abruptly stands, the chair squeaking as the bulk of his weight shifts, and Eugene suddenly feels Harvard’s fingers on his chin, tilting his head up and making Eugene look him straight in the eyes.

“Are _you_ high right now, Labao?” Harvard asks, low enough for no one else around them to hear. Coach Williams and Coach Lewis are busy, lugging over their bags full of extra equipment. Seiji is watching Nick fumble around for his body cord before he briskly reaches over and plucks it from underneath his fencing jacket for him.

Eugene jerks his head, freeing his jaw out of the older boy’s grasp. “You think I would actually light up at a match? Seriously?”

Harvard slowly retracts his hand, looking a little bit rueful, but Eugene can’t find it in himself to be easygoing about his captain thinking that he’d sneak off and get stoned before first bout, like he hasn’t been breaking his back to get on this team for two years. It had been weeks since he smoked the rest of his shitty weed with Nicholas, before the season had even started, and he knows just when to lay off in case he gets selected for in-competition testing. He hardly smokes consistently enough for THC to show up positive anyway and knows where he can get the detox solution for clean results from Tanner.

“Listen, I don’t personally have a problem with it,” Harvard starts after a few moments of charged silence between them, with dark brows slightly furrowed and eyes roaming over his face. Eugene distantly knows Harvard has probably never seen him this ticked off, and the fact does nothing for the sudden drop in his mood. “But Coach doesn’t like it, so I can’t really allow it. I thought I made that clear when I got rid of your pot last time.”

“So, it gets a Harvard stamp of approval when it came to Tanner for two years, but not with me?” Eugene snaps, and his captain’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “He told me all about it. Smoked all the time, even though he was taking Aiden’s place at practically every match. You’re telling me he wasn’t a risk to be tested with the refs and judges seeing his attitude and temper tantrums?”

“It was different back then,” Harvard says, although the usual smooth, baritone of his voice pitches strangely in the same way it does when he claims he’s cool whenever Aiden cancels their plans to hang out with his honorary guy of the week. The senior might have a mischievous streak, but Eugene had quickly figured out that he was worse of a liar than even Bobby. “We have an actual chance this year.”

Eugene shakes his head, making it a point to look at anywhere but Harvard’s face. “Whatever, man.”

“Coach needs you for the scoresheet,” Aiden says as he approaches them, snuffing out any more potential stilted conversation. He’s tying up his long hair in his signature ponytail for fencing, fingers stilling when he sees both of their abnormally tense faces. He studies Harvard for a few moments, then turns his piercing, snake-like eyes onto Eugene, giving him a slow once-over as if deciding how to ruin his life. “What’s going on?”

“I gotta go check on the freshmen,” Eugene mumbles, ditching before the two upperclassmen can make his mood worse. He can feel the weight of their eyes when he comes up behind Nicholas, giving him a pat where “COX” is stenciled in blocky letters on the back of his fencing jacket. Nick jumps a little under his touch, fiddling with the top of a water bottle.

“You good?” Eugene asks carefully after Nick’s eyes dart around the gym and he runs a hand through the long part of his undercut.

“I’m a little nervous,” he laughs, the cap of his water bottle clicking under his thumb. “There’s a lot of people here, right?”

Eugene follows his gaze, spotting the cluster of local news stations setting up their equipment for broadcast. The bleachers are slowly filling with families and spectators, and Eugene knows for a fact that there will be college scouts here, but he isn’t about to share that with Nicholas. A group of professional photographers are staking out as close as they possibly can get to Seiji, who is warming up with lunging drills by himself and flat out ignoring them in their requests for a still shot. Eugene figures the news reporters will be just as lucky.

Eugene brings a hand to the back of Nick’s neck, giving him a small shake. “Listen, you’re going to do fine. This is what we’ve been working towards, yeah? Plus look around, we’re the hottest team here. We’re gonna sweep.”

Nodding, the other boy smiles a little, but still seems uneasy overall. He bumps his shoulder against Eugene’s own and wipes the sweat gathering at his hairline with the back of a gloved hand. “That horrible lacrosse weed doesn’t sound too bad now, huh?”

He knows that Nick is only joking, but his own spat with Harvard from just a few minutes ago about the very subject makes his stomach churn. Eugene crosses his arms and hopes the weird sound his throat makes is convincing enough.

“The other team should out here by now,” Seiji says airily, coming to stand next to them after apparently finishing his pre-match warmups. The cameras flicker to life in a rapid succession that causes Eugene to see nothing but white for a few concerning moments. Nick, in an action that seems more like himself, flashes a smile cheekily and holds up a peace sign.

“Ignore them,” Seiji frowns and quickly pulls Nicholas’ hand down, causing an even more frenzy of shots to erupt.

“More like smile and look pretty,” Eugene turns and looks over his shoulder to see Aiden and Harvard walking towards them. Aiden snaps his compact mirror shut and smirks, something others might mistake as charming grin if they didn’t know better. “Getting sponsorship isn’t beneath some of us like it is for you, Katayama.”  

Seiji’s eyebrows furrow deeper as him and Aiden stare icily at each other. Ever since their match during tryouts, the tension between the two had been nothing but hostile and Eugene can’t recall a single uncomplicated interaction they’ve had since then. They usually seem completely happy pretending the other doesn’t exist, except when Aiden feels like having fun and digging his way under Seiji’s skin. Eugene would be lying to himself if he wasn’t dying to find out what Aiden had said to the freshman during the middle of their bout to rattle him so much, and highly doubts even Harvard knows.

Now, their captain clears his throat and gestures to the clipboard he’s holding in his hands. “I’m about to turn in our order to the ref. First match will be Aiden, me, then Nicholas against East Lyme.”

Eugene can feel the way Seiji immediately tenses up next to him. Nick swallows hard and Aiden’s smirk impossibly grows wider.

“You’re benching me on our first match?” Seiji scoffs, intense eyes flitting from Nicholas back to Harvard. “I’m the best fencer on this team and you’re substituting me in for a reserve?”

Harvard looks prematurely exhausted like he was already expecting this reaction. “We’re going to be here all day, Katayama. We’re facing nine other teams, back to back. This is nothing like individual pools. It’s important to pace ourselves or we’re just going to burn out before we climb higher in the bracket.”

Shrugging, Aiden leans against the arm he placed upon Harvard’s shoulder. “And Exton isn’t here, so why do you care? Most of these schools are just as low ranked as us. Nothing for you to sweat about, unless you’re worried about those cameras catching you sitting on the sidelines for your first match at Kings Row.”

“That isn’t the point.” Seiji snaps, turning to face him.

Aiden grins. “Isn’t it?”

“Stop fighting,” Nicholas mumbles, and everyone follows his gaze to the other side of the strip to where their opponents are finally arriving late but looking like they have all the time in the world. Eugene stares at them, their relaxed shoulders and indifferent faces, and feels like something is off.

“You’ve fenced these guys?” he asks, watching when a few boys from the other team look over in their direction. Eugene waggles his fingers at them until they sneer and turn away.

“East Lyme almost has a worse track record than we do. We’ve fenced them plenty of times and have actually won, believe it or not.” Aiden says, throwing a harsh look at Seiji that he makes sure isn’t overlooked. The senior fishes out his body cord to attach to the scoring reel just as Coach Williams and Coach Lewis come over to huddle them in a tight circle.

“Alright, our first event of the year. How’re we feeling?” Coach Williams studies each of their faces in turn with crossed arms when they at first say nothing, opting to instead stare at each other incredulously. Only when she raises an eyebrow at them do they manage a “Good, Coach.” Lewis chews nervously on a fingernail as she watches the interaction.

The match against East Lyme officially starts before Eugene can even get his bearings, with Aiden confidently strutting onto the piste after the referees go through the boring and time-consuming motions of testing the weight of blades and making sure gear is up to regulation standard. He and the others are ushered to take their seats in the cheap plastic chairs set up on the outskirts of the strip. Nick and Seiji are opposites on either side of him, one freshman stiff as a board and the other fidgeting, slouched in his seat, with bouncing knees. The tension between the two is clear as day, with Seiji being pissed that a rookie was chosen over him and sporting a bruised ego, Nicholas sulky at Seiji’s lack of approval in being picked. Eugene would happily dedicate more time in unpacking all of that, if not for his own suspicions about the other team’s weird behavior.

“Something is up with them,” he says eventually, observing how their captain plops himself in another boy’s lap, laughing and slinging an arm around his neck for a selfie.

Seiji shifts slightly in his seat. “What do you mean?”

“Acting like they’re about to have a nice picnic in the park,” he says, and catches the way Aiden’s opponent actually has the balls to yawn before securing his mask over his head. “We have two nationally ranked fencers; they should be sweating bullets right now.”

Nick’s legs still as the two freshmen squint across the piste, but before they can say anything more the referee is calling for en-garde.

The other school’s fencer, Sullivan or Mulligan, Eugene can’t remember from when he peeked at the opposing lineup, and Aiden slip into their starting positions. The bad feeling in his stomach increases tenfold as he watches the way Aiden is aggressively pushed to the two-meter warning line as soon as the clock starts. Before the senior can even compose himself, he is struck directly in the chest with an advance-lunge at such speed it makes Aiden look like he’s fencing underwater.

All three of their heads whip around to where Harvard is standing, something Eugene would find hilarious in a different circumstance, and watch as their captain and Coach Williams hastily begin to talk to one another after a short, stunned pause.

“What the fuck?” Nicholas hisses, while Aiden returns to the on-guard line, bending his blade in an agitated motion Eugene has never seen him do before. “I thought they were supposed to be bad?”

Seiji’s hands are clenched tight around the arms of his chair. They are helpless to watch from the sides as Gallivan startles Aiden with an appel right off from the en-garde, before he forces Aiden’s blade into his low line, taking it with the guard and forte of his own epee. It’s a semi-bind move that seems too elite to be taught or practiced in their school’s salle. Nick jolts a little next to him at the piercing drone of the scoring machine and Eugene blinks, registering how their senior is already two points down in less than thirty seconds of the bout.

Harvard slides into the empty chair next to Seiji, and when the trio of them look at him, Eugene hopes he’s going say how this is one big joke, or mix-up and they are aren’t about to take the loss like this in front of cameras and sports journalists when they are the team everyone is expecting to come out on top. The constipated look on Harvard’s face tells him otherwise.

“Lewis just told us that East Lyme got a new coach over summer,” he says, and Nicholas and Eugene must lean closer to hear him over another blaring buzz as Aiden takes a flick to the left shoulder. “She didn’t know who he was, but Coach just now recognized him after a closer look. Apparently, he’s a retired private instructor, trained three gold medalists back in the ’70s and this is the first team he’s taken on in decades.” Harvard rips his eyes off the piste to look directly at Seiji. “Coach thinks that they, I don’t know, have connections and convinced him out of retirement somehow when they got wind of you transferring to Kings Row.”

None of them have the chance to say anything after that, as the other team begins a loud chorus of jeering and hollering when the score climbs up five to nothing.

“Fuck,” Eugene scrubs a hand over his face and closes his eyes. He almost wants to laugh. “We’re fucked.”

*

Pulling off his mask, Eugene inhales deeply through his nose in a poor attempt to subtly regulate his breathing before he steps forward to shake the hand of his last opponent of the day, a boy with a buzzcut he might have found cute if not for the deliberate lack of eye contact or limp way he grasps his hand in return. Eugene has been met with roughly the same reaction throughout the entire tournament and is pretty sure that most of the guys here wouldn’t even bother with the required handshake if not for running the risk of getting black carded.

“Yeah, good match to you, too!” Eugene says to the boy’s departing back when he makes sure the referee is out of earshot. He begins peeling off his gloves with more force than necessary. “Fucking asshole.”

Left alone out on the piste, he glances around and discovers that nobody was watching his bout, not even his own team. Not that he minds, he wishes he could erase not only this match, but the last six hours of his life from his own memory and everyone else who was unlucky enough witness it.

Kings Row’s first competition of the season was probably the most embarrassing and chaotic event of Eugene’s entire life, and he had quite a handful of those. After Aiden’s disastrous bout, both Harvard and Nick’s opponents from East Lyme were just as good, if not better. Harvard had probably intended him and Aiden to act as a buffer to slowly introduce the rookie to a competitive match, but no one could predict the shitty rival school gaining a coach that had once upon a time trained Olympians. They had been effectively steamrolled and sent straight to the bottom bracket. It had only gotten worse from there.

Eugene joins Nicholas over at the sidelines where he’s sitting with his head hanging between his knees. He’s still breathing hard from his bout before Eugene’s own and his hair is a shade darker, damp with sweat. He mumbles something without looking up and it takes Eugene a second to understand.

“Did you win?”

Eugene frowns. He looks back at the scoreboard that had yet to be reset, displaying his opponent’s two-point lead and feels like the little red digital numbers are going to be burned into his retinas for a very long time.

“Almost. But _that’s not good enough_ ,” Eugene pitches his voice to match Seiji’s in an echo of his words, and Nick finally lifts his head at that.

“Where is he?”

“Probably in the bathroom having another meltdown.” Eugene takes a seat in the empty chair next to him, mildly concerned about how bad his legs are shaking. He can feel the muscles of his thighs spasming through the thick material of his fencing pants.

Nicholas is rubbing at the back of his neck. “He’s pissed at me for choking up so bad. I feel like shit.”

“He’s pissed at everyone because he was, we were, publicly humiliated. Don’t take it too personally.” Eugene takes a long sip of his Gatorade before passing it to the freshman. “Drink this before you start dry heaving again.”

They sit there in weary silence for a while longer watching school staff begin to disassemble the strips and clean up the court before they are joined by their Coaches and the upperclassman returning from speaking to the journalists in Seiji’s absence. Aiden’s hair is messy and falling out of his ponytail, looking like he’s entirely too exhausted to bother with fixing it. Harvard is sporting an expression like a kicked puppy, and it almost makes Eugene regret snapping at him about the weed. Their captain had elected to put himself in every match’s lineup in some sort act of self-punishment, like he was to be blamed solely for their team’s dysfunctional dynamic and was trying to make up for it. It hadn’t been enough at the end of the day, but the prospect wasn’t lost on Eugene.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Harvard throws Aiden a stern pointed look and the blonde rolls his eyes before turning fully to face Nicholas.

“I’m sorry for calling you a waste of a fencing scholarship,” he says, the airy tone of his voice making it obvious he isn’t very sorry at all. He glances back at Harvard for approval before adding, “It was said in a heated moment and I didn’t mean it.”

When their losing streak had hit three in a row, Aiden had deployed his signature tactic of talking shit in hopes of provoking them to do better, as if they weren’t already at the end of their rope. Eugene isn’t sure whether Aiden is aware that the only opinion Nicholas really cares about is Seiji’s, or if the senior was just that desperate.

Nick tilts his head slightly in acknowledgment but keeps his gaze on his bright red court shoes. “I’ve been called worse.”

“Oh, like Zero?” Eugene attempts to tease and bumps his knee against Nicholas’. The freshman fiddles with the cap of the Gatorade bottle, but says nothing.

Seiji emerges from his hiding place only when the cameras clear out and the Coaches are finishing with packing away all their extra gear. The pink flush that appeared on his cheeks and neck around their fourth match is still there, and Eugene watches Nick try his hardest not to stare. Coach Lewis says something about their first tournament and a picture, and she hands off her cell phone to a lingering spectator and gathers everyone close. Eugene’s legs tremble with the exertion of simply standing but he doesn’t complain when Nicholas sags heavily against him. He peeks over Coach Lewis’ shoulder when she pulls up the photo and isn’t surprised to see, besides her giving a big grin, no one else is smiling.

Showering and changing out in the locker room surrounded by the other teams laughing and fucking around just makes the disharmony much more obvious between the five of them. During the tournament, many of the other boys had wandered over before or after bouts to their piste to watch the famous Seiji Katayama and his new school, and it didn’t take long for Eugene to see them picking up on the straining friction. Like how their captain seemed unable to get a handle on a pair of freshmen on opposites sides of the skill spectrum, Aiden’s scathing comments and cold shoulder to the new additions, Nicholas looking discombobulated in front of the large crowd and unfamiliar cameras, Seiji’s permanently soured face as he fenced every match in an attempt to make up for lost points, but unable to carry effectively in a team match. Blood was in the water and all the other fencers could smell it. They ended up getting 7th overall, but the two teams they placed above were in better spirits and somehow that made it feel like they came in dead last.

The walk out to the bus in the parking lot is silent except for the occasional booming of thunder as a late afternoon storm moves in, which is fine with Eugene because it’s taking all his concentration just to make his legs cooperate with his brain. Coach Lewis slings her arm around Nick and gives him a squeeze of reassurance, but Eugene can already tell he is folding in on himself by the way he doesn’t even give a half-hearted smile.

Seiji heads straight to the back of the bus when the doors hiss open, sliding his headphones on and ignoring the rest of them as they climb aboard. On the trip there, they had all sat closer together, but now they choose seats spread apart like they can no longer stand to be physically near each other. Eugene knows shit is fucked when not even Harvard and Aiden share a seat. He turns to see Nicholas throwing his ratty duffel into one of the empty spaces between him and Seiji.

As Coach Lewis is fastening her seatbelt from the driver’s seat, Coach Williams gets on last and observes them silently from the head of the bus. She crosses her arms and Eugene wills himself to sit up straight as her sharp gaze passes over him.

“It was our first competition of the year,” she says, her voice carrying well even over the sound of a heavy downpour as it begins to splatter harder against the windows and tinny roof. “Don’t be so hard on yourselves. We were thrown a curveball this time, but we will do better at our next tournament in a couple weeks.”

Eugene doesn’t have the energy or spirit to crack a joke about a fencing coach using a baseball metaphor. They sound exhausted and defeated in their echo back. “Yes, Coach.”

“So, stop looking like that. Get some rest.”

“Yes, Coach.”

Apparently satisfied, Coach Williams claims her own seat at the front and Coach Lewis turns the engine over. The bus rumbles to life, and Eugene pulls up his hood as the onboard AC system starts blasting out cold air.

Eugene peers out through the misty window as they leave enemy territory and begin their three-hour drive back to Kings Row. He has physics homework in his bag that’s due Monday, but he can’t bring himself to pull it out. Instead, he watches raindrops race down the glass as the foliage and landscape turn into a gray slush and tries to grasp how he has been working, looking forward, to this for two years and he is already dreading having to do it all over again. The realization makes bile rise instantly in his throat.

There are a few quiet sniffling noises from somewhere behind him, and Eugene can’t bring himself to turn and face the good possibility of seeing Nicholas crying out of frustration and disappointment, so he pretends not to notice. He lets his head fall against the back of his seat and closes his eyes.

Just because they have a little secret clubhouse out in the woods or carved their initials alongside those of the school's past fencers, it doesn't make them a real team.

Eugene knows he’s going to have to do something to fix this, but the thought of that task alone makes him want to light up and try to convince himself otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh i promise this will be very shippy for the most part but a chapter like this was needed and i also like writing slice of life stuff, so i hope someone else besides me likes that bc this is 100% self-indulgent LOL. thank you so much for reading!!!!


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